


tea and scones

by jellijeans



Series: Ferdibert Week 2019 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Ferdibert Week 2019, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellijeans/pseuds/jellijeans
Summary: Hubert very strongly considers saying no, but he can hear the smile in Ferdinand’s voice, which is as soft and pleasant and loving as it always is. When he pushes himself up, the smell of tea and scones—their favorite breakfast—hits him almost instantly. Ferdinand smiles at him, brushing a lock of still-slightly-messy auburn hair behind his ear.Delicious.Hubert finds that he cannot help but smile back.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: Ferdibert Week 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558747
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	tea and scones

**Author's Note:**

> day 2 of ferdibert week! the theme is "domesticity"!

“Darling—”

Hubert, if he were a slightly less composed man, might have almost rolled over and groaned into his pillow.

“—love of my life—”

He scrunches his hands into it. He had been up far too late with Ferdinand last night to be awake this early in the morning (although, to Ferdinand’s credit, it is certainly past dawn).

“—second in command to the lovely Lady Edelgard von Hresvelg—”

“— _Emperor_ Edelgard von Hresvelg—”

“ _Emperor_ Edelgard von Hresvelg,” Ferdinand corrects himself, “please arise and face the morning!”  
Hubert very strongly considers saying no, but he can hear the smile in Ferdinand’s voice, which is as soft and pleasant and loving as it always is. When he pushes himself up, the smell of tea and scones—their favorite breakfast—hits him almost instantly. Ferdinand smiles at him, brushing a lock of still-slightly-messy auburn hair behind his ear.

Delicious.

Hubert finds that he cannot help but smile back.

Teasingly, he pushes himself up and extends a hand to Ferdinand, who takes it in his and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles, lips grazing over the scars that his own magic had burnt into his hands during the war, an everlasting reminder of what he did.

(Once, he had convinced himself those scars had meant he couldn’t be loved, didn’t _deserve_ to be loved; and then there had been teatime, and then there had been coffee-and-teatime, and then there had been courting that had occurred backwards and forwards and frankly in all manner of directions, and then there had been things slightly less proper than courting, and then there had been a very stammered proposal, and then there had been a wedding, and then there were mornings like this one, where he wakes up to Ferdinand making him breakfast and treating him as if _he_ is the Emperor, not the lady he serves.

And then he had been loved, and then it was because Ferdinand loved _him_ , and then he had stopped wearing gloves around Ferdinand, who kissed every burn and sear and crackle of a scar on his hands as often as he could.

And then Ferdinand, holding those same hands in his, had told him he deserved to be loved, and he believed it.)

“Come to breakfast,” Ferdinand says, pulling Hubert up. He kisses him again, laughing only a little as Hubert’s eyes follow his lips when he pulls away. “Come. Eat with me, Hubert.”

“I’m coming, darling,” he says, shifting the covers aside and finding his footing. He wraps an arm around his husband’s waist and kisses his cheek—

—and it is such a relief, such a breathtaking difference that he can do that now, that there is no war that forces them to steal kisses forcefully and painfully in halls between war counsels and battle reviews, that there is no risk of the next kiss being their last, that Hubert can kiss Ferdinand as many times as he wants and have no consequences save for the possibility of Ferdinand kissing him back—

—and lets Ferdinand guide him to the kitchen, where two teacups sit alongside a delicately arranged assortment of scones. Ferdinand beams at him, proud of his work.

“Thank you,” he says. He kisses Ferdinand again, just because he can. He loves the way Ferdinand’s cheeks dimple when he smiles. “It’s lovely.”

“I am glad!” Ferdinand pours them both a cup of tea before taking his place across from Hubert, table manners still impeccable despite not having been a noble for years. “I spent most of the morning preparing them. Cooking is not my strongest suit, but I think the scones turned out well.”

Hubert bites into one. It is pleasant, neither too strong nor too sweet, but instead a buttery flavor that melts on the tongue. “They most certainly did. My compliments to the chef.”

Ferdinand smiles again, and Hubert’s heart pounds in his chest.

“Did you already go for a ride this morning?” he asks, and Ferdinand nods.

“I did! It is a luxury I rarely had the chance to pursue during the war. When I did, it was less of a luxury and more of a scouting mission, as I am sure a certain chief advisor to the Emperor is aware.” Ferdinand raises an eyebrow playfully. Hubert scoffs and takes another bite of the scone. “Regardless, it was pleasant. There is a certain peacefulness to it that you are hard pressed to find anywhere else, Hubert. You should join me sometime.”

“Perhaps I will.”

Ferdinand shifts so that his left hand sits delicately on the table, sunlight glinting lightly off of his wedding ring, and Hubert exhales, running a thumb over his own.

There is so much he is thankful for when it comes to Ferdinand. There are so many lives he could have lived without him, so many lives he could have not lived at all, and not a single one of them would be anywhere near as worth living as this one, if only because he can wake up with Ferdinand next to him every morning.

He wishes they could leave the war behind them. He wishes that they could forget Dimitri’s face as he and Dedue died in each other’s arms, wishes that Almyra and Fódlan could have become great allies without Edelgard nearly killing the Almyran king in battle once before. He wishes that they had not seen classmates, fellow students die on the battlefield.

Hubert remembers when Ferdinand had been forced to strike down a girl he had danced with at the ball. He had been inconsolable. His hands had shaken for days. Hubert had been genuinely concerned he might have ended up being discharged. He had pulled himself together, but Hubert wishes he could have shielded Ferdinand from that. Protected him from the worst parts of the war that Ferdinand willingly exposed himself to, did so knowing that the war was greater than himself and that it was for a just cause, and yet felt every moment of all the same.

Ferdinand’s hand reaches over to cover his, fingertips resting gently on the back of his palm.

“Hubert?”

He looks up. Ferdinand looks concerned. “Yes, my love?”  
“You seemed pensive. Is all well?”

“Yes, of course. It’s nothing. Do not worry yourself over it.” He pauses, then, staring at the scone, the tea. At Ferdinand.

“Ferdinand?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Ferdinand’s eyes soften, and he breaks out into another smile, softer at the corners but warm all the same. He brings Hubert’s hand to his lips again and kisses it, and despite the scars, Hubert can feel how soft Ferdinand’s lips are, and is once again convinced that everything they did was worth it.

“I love you too,” Ferdinand says.

Hubert smiles and reaches out to take another scone.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! come yell with me on twitter at @jellijeans!!


End file.
